


A Small Price

by captpizpalu, Moiraine



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, the-eagle-kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captpizpalu/pseuds/captpizpalu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiraine/pseuds/Moiraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt from The Eagle Kink: "Esca works for the biggest crime family in the city. With his best pal Liathan they collect "protection money" from owners of small businesses (and sometimes he shows those who don't want to pay why they need protection). For some mysterious reason mr.Aquila is excused from paying his share- but it has probably something to do with Esca fucking Marcus, mr.Aquila lame nephew, behind his shop every monday. Give me some dubcon, rogue sex and dark Esca! Also i won't say no to some tragic story where Marcus got lame because he told "no" to the guy who was collecting money before Esca."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As soon as he thought, _this time it isn’t so bad,_ Marcus realized that, unfortunately, he was getting used to this.

A hand searched through his dark hair and gripped tightly, tugging his head back roughly.  Marcus had to endure the pain for just a bit longer; the feeling of a criminal rutting inside of him, groaning at the sight of Marcus’s bent over body, muttering how tight he was.

 _Just a little bit longer,_ he told himself. Just a little bit longer, and he wouldn’t have to deal with it for another week.

***

Marcus nervously paced the alley behind his uncle's shop, hoping he wouldn't come outside.  As the minutes passed, he had to keep wiping his hands on his jeans because they wouldn't stop sweating.  Though he desperately hoped otherwise, he knew deep down that this was not going to go well.  It was a long shot, but maybe Cradoc would give him another couple of days to get the money.  He already had half of it, which might be enough to buy him some more time. 

The sounds of footsteps at the mouth of the alley had him jumping to attention.

Cradoc first started coming not long after the shop opened, when his uncle wasn’t there. He worked for the MacCunoval family, and it was his job to collect… _protection_ money from all the businesses in the area. At first, Marcus had been appalled, but as soon as the man not so subtly insinuated that his uncle would pay, one way or another, he had agreed to get the money. It was that or ruin his uncle’s business or worse, his life. Marcus wouldn’t have any of that.

So, every two weeks Cradoc came to collect a payment. Marcus managed to scrape something up every time, busting his ass at any odd job he could. But lately it had been difficult. The little book store didn’t get too many customers, so Uncle Aquila couldn’t afford to pay him much, and it was getting harder and harder to find other work. Marcus couldn’t keep up.

Cradoc didn’t seem like a bad man. Aside from his appearance, big and bulky, a small scar cutting across his cheek, he didn’t even come off as a member of organized crime. His eyes were kind, his smile was genuine. Someone Marcus’s mother might have called a gentle soul.

“You got the money?”

Marcus set his mouth in a firm line. What else could he say? It’s not like he was going to get away without paying.

“Not…exactly,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Cradoc approached him with a quicker step now, getting too close, his gaze burning through Marcus even as he looked away.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Not all of it.”

***

Marcus had never lost a fight before. At least, not a real one, where he was able to fight back.

He remembered getting in a few blows against Cradoc, before the gun was pulled. Then, all his experience ceased to matter.

Brightness enveloped him when he woke. A white room. A hospital bed. The smells of antiseptic and disinfectant in the air. He bolted upright, panicked, breath coming in harsh, frantic, gulps. The hospital. Shit. _Shit!_ Who brought him here? He wouldn’t have agreed to come here. He didn’t have insurance, he couldn’t afford a trip to the hospital.

Marcus tore away his blankets, not sure what he was going to do, only that he had to leave, _now_. He didn’t even make it out of bed. As soon as he tried to swing his legs over the side, pain shot through his left thigh, an incredible, lightning-fast knife of agony. He cried out, clutching at the wound, and earning another lance of pain.

Then, soft, aged hands were on his shoulders, pushing him down to lie flat on the bed.

“Marcus! Marcus, my boy, are you all right?”

His uncle. Oh _God,_ Marcus’s uncle. He suddenly wanted to weep like a child in the crook of his neck uncle’s neck and forget the fear and pain that overwhelmed him, like he had when he was a child and had first been sent to Uncle Aquila after his parents died.

“Hey, it’ll be all right,” Uncle Aquila smiled warmly at him. Marcus managed a nod, clinging tightly when the older man grasped his hand. His uncle was the only good thing Marcus had, the only thing he cared about – besides a photo of himself and his parents he kept in his wallet. “Take a deep breath now, there we go.”

Marcus took an unsteady breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to calm himself, trying to breathe through the pain. His thigh still hurt, pain pulsating throughout his leg, but it seemed to ease a bit.

“Okay, Marcus, much better. How do you feel? Do you need anything?” His uncle placed a steady hand on his shoulder. Marcus, with his eyes still shut, just shook his head.

“Hmm.” There was silence as his uncle considered what to do next. “Marcus, can you tell me what happened? Who did this?”

He wanted to say something, words gathering on the tip of his tongue; so many excuses, apologies, fears, but all he managed was a long whine deep in his throat, because if he wanted to keep his uncle safe, he _couldn’t_ tell him anything.

“Okay, okay, shh, it’s all right. I’m here for you. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Marcus shook his head again. “That’s not it.”

“What? Do you know who did this to you?”

Marcus allowed himself a shaky breath as he thought of the best way to explain the situation to the man he respected most, the man he’d been trying to protect in the first place.

“I…I was ah, I was,” he struggled with the words. “I was mugged. I don’t know who. Oh, God, I just…I’m so sorry—”

His uncle’s hands grasped both of his shoulders, his bright blue eyes staring straight into his own green ones. “You have nothing to be sorry for. In a week, you’ll be out and soon enough you’ll be as good as new. Everything will be just fine.”

A lump welling in his throat, Marcus just nodded, unable to tell his uncle just how untrue that was.

***

Three days later—sooner than the doctors and his uncle wanted, but not nearly soon enough for him—Marcus hobbled out of the hospital on crutches.

The crutches, though hard to manage at first and embarrassing, were at least not as pitiable as a wheelchair. And they were cheaper. He was also sent off with several prescriptions—all of which were too expensive to fill—and an appointment with the physical therapist. Physical therapy was also too expensive, and he only intended to go long enough to learn how to do it at home.

A week later, the first bill from the hospital arrived. Marcus was thankful that he was sitting in his uncle’s office and alone, so that he didn’t actually fall down and no one could see him weep. No bill should ever have _that_ many zeroes. Jesus, there was no way he could pay that. He’d filled out paperwork at the hospital to try and get some of the bills covered, but even then…. Had he not been knocked out cold, he would have refused the care and the damn consequences.

Every day, he waited to hear from Cradoc. It had been longer than two weeks and the man should have been back by now. He didn’t know what he was going to tell him. If Marcus hadn’t had the money before, he certainly wasn’t going to have it after he’d been shot. Fear was a constant companion, twisting sickeningly in his gut, and if not for his uncle nagging him, he probably would have stopped eating altogether. Instead, he took out his stress in applying the physical therapy he’d been taught in the sole session he’d gone to, the agonizing stretched helping to take his mind off of just how much shit he was in.

***

About a month after being shot, Marcus sat on a high stool behind the counter, managing the storefront for the afternoon while his uncle left to take care of some errands and buy groceries. He offered Marcus a half-smile when he left and one of his many “It’ll be alright” phrases, but Marcus knows better. His uncle knows just how deeply they’re in debt now—and Marcus wanted to weep again when his uncle said _we_ —and he doesn’t even know the half of it.

The bell atop the door chimed and Marcus looked up from the book he was reading to see two men enter.

“Good afternoon, can I….” His words faded away and his fists clenched nervously as he realized who these two men must be. They were both dressed in dark suits, very well-tailored. One of them was tall, ominous looking with his cold face and black mohawk, but it was the other man that captures Marcus’s attention. He was short, almost slight, with cropped dark blond hair and steely gray eyes. But Marcus saw the way he moved and, more importantly, saw the way the tall guy hung back, pretending to be interested in the shelves around him. The blond might have been smaller, but he was in charge.

“Marcus Aquila?” asked the blond, stepping closer.

Marcus slowly got to his feet, feeling the pain shoot up his leg as he did so.

He tried to say something, and barely stuttered, “Er, yeah, I-I—”

The blonde waved him away.

“No, no, that’s all right. Please sit.” He cocked a brow at Marcus’s stiff form and shot a look at the crutches beside him. “I see our old friend Cradoc’s done your leg in.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you guys would want the payment so soon, I didn’t—“

“Be quiet.” Marcus shut his mouth so fast he almost bit his tongue. “I’m not here to collect a payment.”

Marcus ducked his head. He didn’t know what to expect, but considering they were associated with Cradoc, and payment or no, he knew it couldn’t be anything good. His leg twinged and Marcus really, really hoped he was going to get out of this without any further injury.

“We’re going to give you a little grace period to sort things out.”

Marcus lifted his head at the words, shocked and confused.

“A…grace period?”

The man with the dark eyes and the mohawk spoke up, even though his attention was still on the books around him.

“We got rid of Cradoc for _financial_ reasons. Couldn’t trust the guy.” He turned his head away from the shelves and gave Marcus a smile that reminded him very much of a shark. A hungry shark. “Esca and I will handle the payments from now on.”

Marcus nodded and averted his gaze downward again.

“Thank you, Liathan,” Esca said coolly. “Anyway, as I said, you have a grace period. We’re giving you three months.”

The relief Marcus felt was so profound he was almost sick with it. Three months. He has no idea how he’s going to get the money, but, God, he has time now. Maybe he can do this.

“Th-Thank you,” he stuttered out, and Esca just inclined his head slightly as he and Liathan exited the shop.

***

“I-I can’t pay you. I’m sorry.”

Esca rolled his eyes. “Jesus, mate, we went out of our way to give you three months to sort your shit out. What the _fuck_ do you mean you can’t pay?”

“I just can’t, there’s no way,” said Marcus. “I have medical bills and I can’t find work and all these-”

“No, I didn’t ask for excuses,” Esca said, cutting him off and pinching the bridge of his angular nose in frustration. “You should have the money by now.”

Liathan stepped forward, one hand slipping inside his jacket. Marcus took a step back, eyes widening as he realized that he was cornered. He may have been a head taller than Esca and outweighed them both, but he was still outnumbered, they had weapons, and now he was a fucking _cripple_. Any altercation would probably end worse than it did with Cradoc.

“I have some money, okay? It’s just not enough. I’m sorry. I tried—”

“Shut up. Just shut up for a minute.” Esca interrupted, raking a hand through his hair. Then he gave Marcus a long, slow look, considering him from head to toe, gaze lingering uncomfortably long on Marcus’s injured leg. “Maybe we can work something out.”

Marcus licked his lips in consideration. Maybe he’d get out of this with his other leg still intact.

“Anything,” he agreed readily, and nearly instantly regretted his words at the smile that curled Esca’s lips.

“Liathan, I’ll handle this,” he turned towards his partner, gesturing him to head back. “Go wait in the car.”

The darker man gave a little huff of laughter before leaving. Esca turned back to Marcus. “You got a back door to this place?”

“Yes,” Marcus said slowly. “Why?”

“Show me.”

For a moment, Marcus didn’t move. Esca narrowed his eyes at him and opened the side of his jacket, just enough to reveal the dark holster lying against his side. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“N-No,” Marcus said quickly. “It’s, uh, it’s this way.”

Turning, he limped toward the back, leaving the cane he used now behind and just putting his hand along the wall when he needed support. He led Esca through the back door, out into the alley that ran behind the row of shops

 “Now,” Esca spoke softly when the door had closed behind them, “you’re going to do as I say or things are going to get ugly. Understand?”

Marcus nodded, breathless.

“Take off your trousers.”

Marcus furrowed his brows. “Um…what?”

“I said take off your bloody pants before I shoot you.” Esca commanded, eyes sharp and cold. “Unless you’d rather my friend handle your dear old uncle because you couldn’t listen properly?”

“No, no, okay, I will,” Marcus whispered, reaching for his belt. Being humiliated would be easier to deal with than Uncle Aquila getting hurt. His pants fell to his ankles, exposing muscular legs and one ruined thigh, wrapped tightly in an Ace bandage because the compression helped.

The way Esca looked at him though, almost admiringly, sent a cold wave of dread through Marcus, catching in his throat, sinking deep in his stomach. _Oh, please don’t let this be what it looks like,_ he thought fervently.

“Boxers, too, come on.”

Marcus’s breath began to quicken. “Uh. My boxers?”

“I won’t tell you again.”

They fell to his ankles as well, and Marcus flushed in embarrassment, eyes on the ground.

“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

He complied, his whole body shaking slightly. It was obvious what would happen; there was no mistaking what this way. The very idea made his stomach drop, made his eyes burn, and that was before Esca laid his hands on him, sliding over at his lower back, squeezing Marcus’s ass with a low, appreciative hum. Then he heard the zipper slide down.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsly, not caring that he was begging. “Please don’t do this.”

Esca simply shoved his face against the cold brick wall. “You owe me, Marcus, not the other way around. You can’t pay me with money, you’re gonna pay me another way. Now kindly _shut the fuck up._ ”

Marcus couldn’t say anything. He wanted to scream, to smack those greedy hands away, but he was frozen with fear.

Without warning or preparation, Esca entered him, practically shoving his cock inside with no warning, no preparation, nothing. Marcus did scream then, short and sharp before managing to strangle it.

Marcus found himself biting the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to spill the contents of his stomach or cry out as Esca fucked him from behind, gripping his hips as he sped up.

It was revolting and it _hurt_ , and he knew without looking that Esca had torn him. He shook, clinging to the brick wall in front of him, vision blurry with unshed tears. Then he felt Esca spill deep inside of him. Marcus couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped his throat as Esca pulled out, something warm and wet trickling down his thigh.

Esca zipped himself up, without saying a word. Marcus continued to shake, standing in place, half-naked and gripping the wall with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Right then. I’ll be back next week.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hi! I'm now co-authoring this with captpizpalu and am going to be writing the Esca sections. She'll keep writing poor Marcus.
> 
> Hope this works for everyone!

Esca made his way out of the alley, adjusting himself in his pants and wincing slightly as he did so. Going in raw hadn’t been the best plan he’d ever had, but he’d had to teach the idiot a lesson, and it hurt him far more than it did Esca. Liathan was waiting for him, not in the car but leaning against the outside wall of the shop, and he seemed surprised to see Esca come around the corner instead of out of the building. He opened his mouth to ask, but then paused, and snapped his jaw shut. Esca knew he was sweaty, probably flushed, and Liathan—not being a fucking idiot like most of the family’s goons—knew exactly what had happened.  
  
“Get in the fucking car,” Esca snapped, striding over to the vehicle and practically throwing himself into the passenger seat. Liathan hurriedly slid behind the wheel, and they were pulling out onto the street in a matter of seconds.  
  
They drove in silence for awhile. “So...” Liathan began.  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What?”  
  
“Nothing. Just wondering if he was worth the money your father’s expecting.”  
  
“Not yet,” Esca grumbled. “Though with the right training, he’d probably be pretty good. Looks don’t hurt either.”  
  
“You’d know more than me.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Esca returned, but without any real heat. Liathan was one of the few who didn’t care one way or the other that Esca preferred cock. He was one of Esca’s only real friends, and the shit he gave was out of affection, treating Esca like a brother rather than any attempt to insult or hurt him. Not that Esca would be hurt by any “feelings” crap, but it didn’t help keep order when he had to beat the shit out of guy for calling him a fag.  
  
“You wish,” Liathan cackled, and Esca couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “No, seriously man, you sure your old man’s gonna be okay with this? I mean, you’re the one getting laid. He’s not getting anything out of it.”  
  
Esca waved off his concerns. “Let me handle it. It’ll be fine.”  
  
“Sure thing. You wanna stop anywhere else before we head back?”  
  
“Nah.” He sat back, watching the streets and buildings pass by in silence, and then abruptly changed his mind. “Hey, actually, stop by the nearest convenience store and get me a hot dog and a Coke.”  
  
Liathan raised an eyebrow. “You seriously want one of those nasty-ass hot dogs?”  
  
“What can I say? Sex makes me hungry and we both know how much I like sausage.”  
  
“Jesus fuck, Esca,” Liathan groaned. “That was awful. Don’t ever fucking say that to me again.”  
  
“Go get me a hot dog and I’ll think about it.”  
  
Liathan pulled into the nearest 7-11, left the car idling in a handicapped spot, and dashed inside. Esca waited in the car, slouched in his seat, and flipped off the person who frowned at him for being in the handicapped space.  
  
After a minute or two, Liathan came back out and tossed a wrapped hot dog and a bottle of Coke into Esca’s lap. “Don’t spill that in my car.”  
  
“It’ll be your car when you actually pay for it. Until then, it’s my car and I’m just being a nice guy and letting you drive.”  
  
Liathan grumbled, but did so quietly, and pulled back onto the streets to take them home. Esca stuck the Coke in a cup holder to give it a few minutes to settle, and unwrapped his hot dog. It was, as Liathan had said, pretty terrible, but Esca loved them regardless. He wasn’t sure why. Probably from all the times he’d sat and waited in a car while his father took care of some business, his father’s men getting him lunch from convenience stores when things took too long. Esca had eaten a lot of those hot dogs as a kid.  
  
As they drove, Liathan flicked the radio on, flipping between stations until he landed on the classic rock one. Esca merely let the sound wash over him, eating and drinking as he contemplated exactly what he was going to tell his father. Liathan’s concern hadn’t exactly been misplaced. Esca’s father, Aonghus MacCunoval—more often known as Maccers or Big Mac—got to where he was by not letting people take advantage of him. He was an honorable man in his own way, but he was hard and ruthless, and if anyone crossed him, they shouldn’t expect mercy.  
  
Had it been anyone else except Esca, the proposition of letting someone trade sex instead of money probably would have lead to a very quiet, very final removal from their position. Esca knew his place as Big Mac’s son afforded him a level of protection only shared by his two older brothers. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be enough to completely deflect his father’s wrath, but Esca had a slight advantage that others couldn’t use.  
  
A plan now firmly fixed in his mind, Esca turned his thoughts back to the encounter in the alley. It wasn't the best fuck he'd ever had, but there was something about pushing the large man against the wall, of feeling the power of all that corded muscle—damaged as it was—quiescent under him that sent a thrill running through him, centering on his cock. God, the man had been so angry, so proud, even at the end, with his pants around his ankles and Esca’s come leaking out of his ass. Esca smiled. He was looking forward to the day when he broke that pride, until he had—what was his name? Marcus?—Marcus on the ground in front of him. Willingly.  
  
He was going to enjoy the ride.  
  
Liathan turned into the long drive that led to the MacCunoval residence and pulled to a stop in front of the door to let Esca out before he parked the car in the garage. Esca tossed him a careless wave and made his way inside, heading up to the second floor where his father’s office was. As he figured, Aonghus was seated at his massive desk, looking at something on the large monitor set up in front of him.  
  
“Well?” Aonghus asked without preamble.  
  
“He doesn’t have the money,” Esca replied blandly.  
  
His father raised an eyebrow. “Do that mean young Mr. Aquila is on his way to the hospital again?”  
  
“No.” Esca shook his head. “No, he’s not. We worked something out.”  
  
The second brow joined the first, and his father turned away from the screen, his entire attention now focused on Esca. “Would you care to explain that?”  
  
“He doesn’t have the money, he’s not going to have the money. Cradoc fucked whatever chances he had of making it, so now he’ll be paying with his body instead.” A slight shrug followed the words. “We weren’t going to be getting the money anyway. At least it’s not a complete loss.”  
  
“Esca....”  
  
Refusing the flinch before the warning note, Esca squared his shoulders and met his father’s gaze levelly. “Da, listen. A lot of guys, if they were my father when they found out about me, probably would have put a bullet in my head to spare themselves the embarrassment. You didn’t. You didn’t treat me any different than you had before. You still love me, and I love you. But you did give me two rules: 1) Nobody fucks me and 2) I don’t fuck any of your guys. And I have no problem with that, never did. But this, the way I see it, this is a way for me to get what I want, and you don’t lose any face. We both know most people would rather suffer a beating than whore themselves out, and you can use it as an example to others what’ll happen if they don’t pay.”  
  
Aonghus leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the side as he studied his son. “You know, most men don’t go through nearly this much trouble for a nice piece of ass.”  
  
“Yeah, well, the kind of ass I like isn’t as available.”  
  
“I don’t need details,” his father muttered and then shook his head. “Fine. You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you and I don’t expect you’ll start now. Don’t make me regret this.” What went unsaid was that if Esca ever tried to double-cross his father, not only would his blood ties not protect him, they’d ensure a more gruesome end. “But this is the only one, you hear me? I don’t want to learn that you’ve got a string of whores paying you with sex when they should be giving me my money.”  
  
Esca let out a silent breath. That had gone even better than he’d expected. He figured there would have needed to be a little more convincing to get his father to agree, but maybe the old man was just in a good mood. He smiled. “You’ve got it, sir.” A little respect couldn’t hurt.  
  
Aonghus shook his head fondly. “You little prick. Get outta here and let me finish my work.”  
  
Not wanting to push his luck, Esca did just that, heading for his area of the mansion to take a shower and pull on a fresh change of clothes. Then he would have to make sure he was free next week to collect from Marcus.  


~*~

  
The next week, when Esca went to visit the Aquilas, he went alone. Liathan had grumbled, insisting that Esca shouldn’t go out alone. They had enemies, and if Esca got himself killed, Liathan was going to get it for not keeping him safe. Esca waved his friend’s worries away. Dangerous or not, he was not about to bring babysitter along on a trip to go fuck someone.  
  
When he got to the bookshop, it was drizzling out, and he frowned at the sky. He sure as shit wasn’t going to do this again in an alley, especially on a day like today. Inside the shop would be fine for today, but if Marcus was going to be paying this way, Esca certainly wasn’t let him off with nothing but quick fucks. It was something to keep in mind for next week.  
  
When he entered the shop, Marcus was sitting behind the counter once more, but he wasn’t reading this time. His attention was focused on the door, and he stiffened when Esca came in. Without needing to be told, he slid off his stool, bracing himself until his leg could take the weight, and stood there waiting while Esca sauntered forward.  
  
Esca took his time, a smile curling up one side of his mouth. The man’s leg might be fucked, but, Christ, the rest of him was beautiful to look at. Marcus started to head for the back, but Esca held up a hand, halting him. “You’re daft if you think we’re doing this outside today.”  
  
Marcus’s shoulders slumped, not much, but just enough to tell Esca that’s what he’d been hoping. When he spoke, it was to the floor and he kept his voice low. “My uncle’s gone until 4:00. We can use the office.”  
  
Esca looked at his watch. “4:00, eh? That oughta be enough time. Lead on.”  
  
Marcus started to turn for a door behind the counter and then reversed direction, coming out from around the counter and past Esca. “The fuck are you—”  
  
“I-It’s not, I just...” Marcus stammered and turned the sign on the door over so that it read ‘Closed’ and turned the deadbolt to lock the door.  
  
“Aw, privacy, how touching,” Esca cooed.  
  
Marcus’s cheeks burned a fierce red, but he didn’t take the bait. “This way,” he muttered, passing Esca once more and leading them into a back room. The office was small, the space mostly taken up by a desk and a filing cabinet. Luckily for Marcus and his uncle, the desk was large, sturdy, and there was very little lying on top of it. Again, Marcus locked that door once it was shut and then just stood there, looking at the floor.  
  
He waited a moment, but when Marcus still didn’t move, Esca sighed in annoyance. “For fuck’s sake. This isn’t complicated. Am I really going to have to tell you to take your pants off again?”  
  
Shaking his head, Marcus mumbled something that sounded like “no” and he quickly turned around to face the desk. He undid the button and zip of his jeans and pushed them down along with his boxers, and then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk.  
  
“Oh, very nice,” Esca said, pleased by the quick compliance. Apparently, Marcus could be taught. That boded very, very well for Esca.  
  
He shucked his jacket, hanging it on the hook set so conveniently next to the door and walked forward to grip Marcus’s hips, pressing his still clothed groin to the other man’s naked ass. Marcus flinched at the contact, but didn’t jerk away. “Good boy,” Esca murmured, nipping his shoulder through his shirt. He was already half-hard and he wanted Marcus naked, but there wasn’t really enough time today. Soon, but not today.  
  
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out two things: a tiny packet of lube and a condom. Hopefully, he’d use the first but not the second. Condoms sucked—Esca hated them—but until he knew Marcus was clean, it would be better to be safe than sorry. He wasn’t about to have his dick fall off because he was too fucking horny to use a rubber.  
  
“I’m going to ask you something and you’re going to tell me the truth, understand?” Marcus nodded. Esca frowned and slapped his ass, hard, earning a yelp.  
  
“You fucking answer me when I ask you a question. I said, do you understand?”  
  
“Y-Yes.”  
  
“Good. Now, are you clean?”  
  
“What?” Marcus twisted his head slightly, almost as if he was going to look back at Esca.  
  
“Are. You. Clean.” Esca spoke as if speaking to a child. “Have you been sticking your cock in filthy places or letting others stick theirs up your ass?”  
  
“I...n-no. They ran tests, in the hospital. I was fine. And I...I haven’t...not since then. It’s just been—”  
  
Esca slapped him again to shut him up. “Good. See that it stays that way.” He shoved the condom back into his pocket and undid his pants, pushing them down, and letting himself rub against Marcus for a few moments until he was fully hard. Then he snapped the packet of lube open and smeared it on his fingers. “Spread your legs.”  
  
Marcus did as he was told, though his flinch this time was bigger when Esca didn’t hesitate to reach between his cheeks and smear the lube against his hole. “You’re gonna be doing this in the future,” he panted, wiping the excess off on his own cock. Then he lined himself up and pushed in.  
  
It was slow. Marcus was tight with little preparation. And while he didn’t scream this time, a high-pitched whine did manage to work its way out of his throat. He made the stupid mistake that so many did and clenched down instead of relaxing, only making it worse for himself. Esca moaned against his back. Jesus, this was nice. He could definitely get used to this.  
  
He took longer than he did in the alley. Not as long as he would have liked, but he drew out his pleasure, pausing several times to let himself come back from the edge so that he could keep going. When he finally did come, he spilled with a quiet groan, buried deep within Marcus, leaning on that broad, strong back, feeling the minute tremors of the body below him. Okay, yeah, this was worth it.  
  
Esca pulled out, wiped himself off with a couple tissues pulled from the box on the desk, and then crumpled them and tossed them on the floor before he dropped them on the floor and redressed. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and unlocked the door to the office. He undid the deadbolt on the front door, turned the sign back over so that it said ‘Open’ and headed for his car.  
  
It was on the drive home that the solution to his problem came to him. He’d just passed the Calleva Motel when he remembered that they were one of the businesses that paid with services instead of cash. They kept a section of the motel solely for the use of MacCunoval’s men, anytime they wanted. Esca thought of the neat, clean rooms, furnished far more tastefully and comfortably than the rest of the motel and smiled. He turned around, headed back to the motel, and spoke to the clerk on duty. They all knew him and his request was granted with alacrity.  
  
Within five minutes, he had two key cards and an understanding that Room 156 was never to be used Thursday nights. Tomorrow, he’d send the second card to Marcus, along with the room number, date and time. If he didn’t show up, well, then, that was his problem.


End file.
